Growing Up In Middle Earth
by Pachelbel
Summary: Follow the lives (childhood through teen years) of Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas. [discontinued, finished]


Authors' Notes: Here's a new one by my brother (Winston) and me. It'll be weird. And confusing. And probably freaky. My Chemistry teacher's saying, "Barely knee-high to a grasshopper" means he's small. It doesn't mean he's only as tall as a grasshopper! *thwaps Winston* We have the most ideas for Legolas and Thranduil, so his stories will be the longest. IF it's not too strange, we might even add other characters.

Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Tolkien Estates; we, of course, did not make any money whatsoever off of this. It's just us goofing around, having fun, etc.

  
  
  
  


GROWING UP IN MIDDLE-EARTH

  
  


LEGOLAS, AGE 5 (in Elf years)

  
  


"Look Father!" Little Legolas, barely knee-high to a grasshopper, ran in. He was carrying a shiny wind chime; it was made of old scrap metal, which he had polished all afternoon in the Royal Craft Room. "With this, the wind will sing in our woods."

Thranduil turned. "We have many wind chimes, we don't need yours," he sounded bored and irritated. "Besides that, yours would make the trees scream in agony. The least you could have done was melt down the edges, so it wouldn't cut the leaves." Thranduil smiled suddenly. "Why don't you hug your wind chime, Legolas? Perhaps I hurt its feelings."

"Oh...all right, Father-Ow!"

Thranduil laughed.

The crown prince, Legolas' eldest brother, ran in and took both the wind chime and Legolas away.

  
  


ARAGORN, AGE 5 (in his own years)

  
  


Elrond frowned at Estel, the Heir of Isildur. "Why don't you shave today?"

"I did!"

"Did you take a bath?"

"Yes!"

"Did you stay away from Arwen?"

Aragorn opened his mouth to say 'I did', but frowned in confusion. "Who?"

  
  


BOROMIR, AGE 5 (in regular years)

  
  


"Agh! Argh!" Boromir was practicing his battle cry. "Grrr!" he was in the Royal Armory, playing with the swords and shields that stood taller than he did.

He stabbed a suit of armor and laughed maniacally. He was very careful to avoid the arrows.

  
  


LEGOLAS, AGE 10 (in Elf years, of course)

  
  


Outside, the young Elves of Mirkwood were receiving their first archery lessons. One after another, they strung their arrows and sent them gliding through the air. None of them hit the bull's-eye, in fact, few of them even hit the target, but that was to be expected. Well, there was one who wasn't doing what was expected.

Because he was the prince, most of the other Elves pretended not to notice as Legolas struggled with his bow. More often than not, the force of it would send him falling backwards. Once or twice he became tangled in the bowstring. His arrow never went more than two or three feet (and that was always behind him). 

"I can't believe he's my son." Thranduil muttered.

"He's just ten," the crown prince replied.

"Yes, don't be too harsh on him, sire," a chef put in.

The young Elves came inside after a hard day of work. The chef gave them their lunch.

"Father, I think something is wrong with my horse," Legolas said. "He staggers around and won't eat."

"That's a shame; he was a good horse. I only wish it was you."

"Me what?"

"That something was wrong with-oh wait, there is." 

"Come out and fix him, Father." Of course, Legolas' horse was very old now.

"There's nothing I can do for him, except send him to a glue factory." Thranduil snapped his fingers, and the servants began to look for the address of a glue factory.

"What's that, Father? You're sending him to work?"

"Yeah, whatever, go," Thranduil said. 

Legolas frowned and went out to the stables, pictures of his horse wearing one of those ugly white factory coats going through his mind. "I wonder what position they'll give you."

  
  


ARAGORN, AGE 10 (in his own years, still)

  
  


Well, Aragorn lived a fairly normal life in Rivendell. They taught him to kill Orcs, and sneak around, and hunt. They kept his real name a secret from him, and continued to call him 'Estel'. 

And Elrond began to form a plan....

  
  


BOROMIR, AGE 10 (in 'human' years)

  
  


"What are you doing?" Denethor asked.

"Grrr!" was the only reply over the thundering of the waterfall. Boromir was lying in a kayak on his stomach, but he'd left the oars on the bank. He was flailing his arms, attempting to row himself up the waterfall.

"Boromir!" the young boy finally gave up and let the kayak fall. "What are you doing?"

"Well, Father, I woke up and thought 'I really ought to know how to do this'." He shrugged as he climbed out and waded ashore. 

Denethor smiled proudly. "That's my boy, always thinking ahead!"

  
  


LEGOLAS, AGE 13 (in Elf years)

  
  


"He's winning archery contests left and right," Thranduil's eldest son reported. "And since you never gave him a new horse, he's also become very skilled with animals. My own horse seems to like him more than me!" He smiled and laughed fondly.

Thranduil shrugged and opened his magazine. The ad read: 'At six, they want you to kiss their boo-boo.' A picture of an adorable little girl smiled up at him, holding out her hand, which sported a Mickey-Mouse band-aid. 

Thranduil looked first at the picture, then up at the prince, then back down, then back up, and smiled. He flipped the ad over. 'By thirteen, they want you to kiss off.' Now the little girl was angry looking, glaring at him from the paper, with piercings all over (nose, lips, cheek, eyebrows), and her hair was dyed strange colors. 

The King looked first at the picture, then at Legolas as he walked in, then at the picture, then at his son, back down, back up.

"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

  
  


ARAGORN, AGE 13 (in Elrond's years)

  
  


"You wanted to speak with me?" Young Aragorn walked in, dripping mud and creek water, carrying three fish strung over his shoulder.

"Where have you been?"

"Elladan said that if I truly wanted to be a woodsman-er, Elf, I had to learn to fish without tools." He displayed the huge trout.

"Yes, well done." Aragorn beamed at Elrond's praise. "Now, Estel, here is Gaeruil, and Rhibi, and Revia."

"Hello," Aragorn said.

"Now, why don't you take...ah, Rhibi, and go have fun?"

"All right, but I was planning on hiking with Elrohir, so if she doesn't mind coming-"

"No, Estel, that's not what I meant. I mean for you to take one of these lovely Elves, and go have fun, just the two of you."

"I suppose I could, if she'll wait for a week or two; I've been planning this trip for months now. No, wait...after I get back, I was planning on taking a bath and going riding with Elladan. Perhaps in a month or two? No, I'm sorry, I forgot, that wouldn't work out, either; I was planning on going with the hunting expedition from Mirkwood when I got back with Elladan. That should take several weeks..."

Elrond threw up his hands. "Aagh! Date them! Date them, Estel! Just stay away from Arwen!"

  
  


BOROMIR, AGE 13 

  
  


Now Boromir was living a normal life. Nothing happened to him during this time, except that he noticed his brother (a 'pacifist') had a penchant for tying up helpless slime-covered hobbits who walked hunched over or on their hands and feet and said 'gollum'. After he had the creature(s) tied up, he adored beating it up with the palace guards.

Boromir was just glad that he was the normal one.

  
  


LEGOLAS, AGE 17

  
  


"What is wrong with Father?" Legolas asked.

His brother sighed. "He's just finished arguing with Celeborn and Galadriel."

Legolas winced. "Over what?"

His brother shook his head, exasperated. "He wants one of their trees. He says the decor here is getting blasé."

"Blasé?" 

The crown prince nodded. "It's his new word."

Legolas looked at the closed throne room door. "I take it the Lord and Lady of the Wood won't give him one?"

"Not as a houseplant, no."

"Would mallyrn even grow here?" Legolas asked.

"Of course they would," Thranduil growled as he came out. "Idiot. Trees grow in the forest, Legolas."

"Father," the older prince said, "Legolas just killed his first orc."

Thranduil looked at them and scoffed. "So? Maybe when he kills a hundred."

"I will," Legolas said. "And I'll get you one of the Lady's trees, too."

"Fine, go, get it!" Thranduil replied, sounding very annoyed. Under his breath he muttered, "Maybe you'll die."

So Legolas set out, and he killed Orc after Orc as he marched along to Lothlorien. Dead Orc, take a step. Shoot another Orc, take two steps. Stab two Orcs, take a step. And so on, and so on.

By the time he reached Lorien, he was stained black from the Orc blood. He had killed forty-five Orcs on the way over; if he could just kill as many on the way back, he'd be mostly there to his goal.

But Galadriel and Celeborn refused to give him a tree ("I know it's stupid to want one for a houseplant, but you don't understand-" "No, we're sorry. Go."). Then he saw it; a little itty-bitty mallorn tree. It barely came above his ankle, but it would work.

He whistled casually, shuffled his feet, looked around; then suddenly he dove to the ground, dug up the tree, and ran.

***

"Father, I got you your tree. It's a mini-mallorn, and it will fit in the throne room." He held it out, but he was now even more filthy than when he had left Lothlorien. "I killed eighty seven Orcs."

Thranduil scoffed. "Eighty seven. You didn't even clear ninety?"

"No...but after I dug up the tree, I shot at Galadriel and Celeborn as I ran out; and I think I hit Haldir, too."

The King smiled warmly. "Good job!" he held out his arms for a hug. 

"They shot back at me." Legolas held out his cloak, which was not even really a cloak anymore, but a shred of cloth.

Thranduil's arms dropped to his side, and he sneered at the prince. "You couldn't even dodge the arrows? Now go take a bath! How dare you be in my presence smelling like this?"

  
  


ARAGORN, AGE 17

  
  


Elrond was sitting alone. Estel would be twenty soon; then he would be told who he really was, and then he would be Aragorn.

In fact, the Elf was waiting for Aragorn to come, so that he could speak to him. When Aragorn finally came, Elrond motioned for him to sit at the table. "Estel, I have been thinking. Long ago, I dreamt."

"Really?"

"Yes..." Elrond pushed his plate away and sat back. "And only now have I decided what to do about that dream." Aragorn waited for him to go on. "Estel, the only thing...is... for you to stay away from Arwen!"

Elrond lunged across the table, but Aragorn was running away.

***

That night, Aragorn was sleeping peacefully in his room. Elrond tip-toed in. "Estel! Wake up!"

"Hmm...Elrond?"

"I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Aragorn nodded warily. "All right."

"I meant to kill you!" Elrond leapt forward, and smothered Aragorn with a pillow. Fortunately, Aragorn was able to push him off, and run away again.

***

"Estel!"

"Hm?"

Bang bang!

But Aragorn had dodged out of the way.

"Call in the canons!"

***

"Come here, Estel. I want to give you something." Elrond handed him a plain gold ring. "Put it on."

"I don't want to put it on; it is evil, I can tell! Give it back to Gollum."

"Put it on! Put it on! PUT IT ON!"

Aragorn ran.

***

Early the next morning, Aragorn met with Sereg, his girlfriend of four years. "I'm sorry...but I think we ought to split up. No, no, it's nothing you did... it's my foster father, Elrond. He's been trying to kill me. I'm sorry...I just don't think it would be safe for us to stay together. I don't know what he might do to you."

Sereg got shifty-eyed. "Wh-what do you mean, darling?"

"Your voice...it's deeper than normal." Aragorn narrowed his eyes. "Elrond!"

Elrond pulled the fan away from his face, and revealed...some piano wire. He wrapped it tight around Aragorn's neck. Aragorn grabbed Elrond's pointy Elf-ears and flipped him. Then he ran away.

  
  


BOROMIR, AGE 17

  
  


"Denethor, I must say, the peasants are quite happy! The tax cut was marvelous; and I can't believe that you brought an end to the famine in our city." The court jester said cheerfully.

Denethor blinked. "What?"

"I said, the peasants are-"

"I heard you! What are you talking about?" Denethor glared. "Did you say tax cut?"

"Y-yes," the jester said nervously.

"I did no such thing!" Denethor sat, frowning, and thinking.

The next day, the peasants were even happier. "Well, I'm sorry to have missed it when you gave the order, but the peasants are quite happy that you've begun building shelters for the homeless!"

"Who's doing this?" Denethor snapped.

In the corner, Boromir smiled. Now, if only he could convince the people of Gondor to go to an electoral system, he could take the throne, and his plan would be complete.


End file.
